The Sensible One
by elsalellan
Summary: Sergeant Isabella Swan is the perfect soldier, but when it comes to dealing with her emotions she tends to run away. She hasn't been back home since she joined the army 8 years ago, when a unexpected phone call turnes her world around. She is coming home
1. Chapter 1

Full Summary: Sergeant Isabella Swan is good at many things; she is a good soldier, strategist, leader and one of the best shooters in the u.s army. These qualities have brought her to where she is today, a staff sergeant at only 26. She is fearless when it comes to dealing with terrorists in the middle east, but when it comes to dealing with her feelings and fears, she tends to run away. She has been running for the past 8 years, when a sudden phone call changes everything. She is coming home.

**A/N:** okay! So this is the first chapter of my first Fanfic ever! I'm excited! This is going to' be fun, and hopefully you will like it. I don't know how often I will be able to update since I'm in school and all, but I will try my hardest! I have no idea how many chapters it will be in the end, I'm making it up as I go mostly, but I have the beginning figured out at least. It will probably be a long story, I think, well we'll see wont we? It will probably be all in Bella's POV since I don't think I could do a convincing Edward. So wish me good luck and here we go!

Disclaimer: I own nada, Stephanie Meyer owns it all.

Chapter 1:

I'm good at many things. I'm good at thinking on my feet, good at strategizing, good at hand to hand combat, good at shooting. I'm a good soldier, hell I'm a fucking great one. I have made myself a name in the world of the u.s army. Isabella Swan is ruthless, calculating and driven. One of the brightest and fastest rising young soldiers there is today, and not a person to cross.

26 years old and already a staff sergeant, now that Is quite an accomplishment.

So how did I end up in the army you may ask? I ask myself that sometimes too. I grew up in Brooklyn, with a father who worked a lot, a runaway mother, a loving brother and a big yellow Labrador. Not the typical upbringing of a future soldier of the united states army.

But none the less, here I stand - or crouch rather- waiting for the sign to move in. Sitting in the absolute silence that in mere moments will be filled with the sounds of guns firing, grenades exploding and people screaming in pain. I know the outcome, we will be successful. I'm the one who planned and strategized the raid, therefor we can't lose. I never lose, not at this game.

I look up and see Johnson signaling, it's time to move in. And so we move, filling the eerie silence that was only moments ago, with the sound of guns firing, grenades exploding and people screaming. Just as I predicted.

It's simple really, just follow the carefully laid out plan. Execute it perfectly and you will be victorious. I always am.

Get the hostage out, it seems simple doesn't it? Well, it's not. This is actually one of the toughest situations I've ever found myself in. Tough yes, but not impossible. If everyone does what they have been trained to do and sticks to the plan, we should be able to execute it without a hitch.

_Follow the plan, get the hostage out._

It's is with this mantra on my mind, that I move through the darkness. I give my subordinate – sergeant Clark - an ok. The space we just moved through is secured, rid of its earlier occupants, terrorists. We move in unison through the house - a very big house that is, almost a small castle or well, fort- over bodies, mostly the enemies bodies.

Death is an occupational hazard, most people know what to expect when they are sent here, to the forefront of the war. Those who don't, well, they are in for a hell of a surprise. This part of the world isn't like the Upper East Side or suburbia, hell it's even a far cry from the bad parts Brooklyn. Here, it's all about life or death, you or them. You never know what to expect, every situation is different, yet so familiar. The places are different, the situations are different, the people are different, but what is always the same is what is at stake. Your life.

Stay alive, no matter what. Here are no rules, no laws, you make your own rules. That, I am good at. I make rules, I strategize, make plans and then execute them. I'm good at staying alive, one of the best.

Therefore it is my responsibility to make sure the others – my platoon- stays alive. I make the rules, the plans and they follow me. Because I'm their best chance at staying alive. I try my hardest to keep them alive, but I can never guarantee their survival.

I'm the boss, the staff sergeant because I'm good at keeping people alive. Whether it's the soldiers or the civilians, or rather the hostages in this case.

We continue to move, it's silent now, our enemies have all been silenced. I take up the front while Thomson and Clark take up the rear. We've made it to the room where the hostages are being held. Inside we expect there to be more warriors, captors.

We wait for back up to come, and they do, all according to the plan.

We rearrange our formation, I'm still at the front flanked by Thomson and Clark. Behind them ten more soldiers take their places while the remaining 23 find their way around the building, splitting up in half to cover the remaining two entrances to the room.

"_team B is in position, over" _I hear peter's voice over my earpiece. Telling me they are ready for the final phase of the plan.

"_team C is in position, over" _as I hear the final confirmation that we are ready to move in I tell them –as always- we move on three.

I hold up three fingers, and then count as I fold them down. We have done this countless times before, and we have the routine down to perfection. I count to three and at the same time as I fold down the last finger -having head my order over their earpieces- the two other troop leaders gives the soldiers the sign, it's go time.

Adrenalin is pumping through my veins as we move, making me forget our earlier battles and my fatigue. Due to our impeccable timing, we all burst through the doors at the same time. I can hear my blood pumping, a rushing sound in my ears.

And then we get down to business, we use our training, our experience with situations like these and last but not least, our guns.

Assessing the situation quickly and expertly- as the experts we are- we take the hostage holders down quickly. And once more this evening I hear guns shooting and people screaming in pain. I see one of them turning my way, beginning to raise his half-automatic. Reacting quickly, I raise my gun take aim and fire. Precise, efficient and with no emotions, exactly what I have been trained to do.

We move further into the room, I fire two more shots taking one more down as I make my way forward, soldiers flanking me on both sides. At last i hear no more shots, no more people screaming in pain. Silence, it's over soon, very soon.

As I take a look around, I see a scene much like all the ones before this.

Dead bodies are everywhere, filling the room with the smell of blood, but I can't bring myself care. You can call me heartless, but really, I'm not. There is just no reason for me to feel remorseful, or sad for those dead, they are my enemies, my countries enemies and it is my duty to make sure my country is safe. Safe from people like these, terrorists, scum of the earth.

We usher the hostages out of the room one by one. There are 12 hostages, when they were taken two days ago there were 20 of them. Unlike the dead bodies on the floor, I feel sad for the hostages that died. They were civilians; they did nothing to deserve to die.

We lead the hostages out one by one, two soldiers protecting each of them on the way out to the helicopters. When they are all in safety I, and the remaining 8 soldiers – including Thomson and Clark- sweep through the house one last time, to make sure there are no survivors left behind.

We split up in two groups and make our way through the now dark and very quiet house. So far so good, no signs of movement anywhere. We wind our way out of the house in silence, still on full alert, only our muted footsteps can be heard. We are almost at the door when I see a movement in a dark corner. I don't have time to react before three severely injured men fires their guns at us.

Taking aim and firing as quickly as possible I silence one of them, the rest of my squad takes out the other two. Only moments before the last one slumps to the floor dead, he fires his gun wildly. Shots ring out and the silence is once again disrupted by sound.

We all jump down to take cover from the bullets. Sometimes the best you can do is just duck and pray to god to not get shot.

God was obviously not listening to me as I feel a burning pain in my shoulder. I fall to the ground screaming out in pain. The world spins as the fire in my shoulder intensifies. I hurts, god it hurts. I have gotten my fair share of beatings and broken bones in my life, but this pain has no comparison. I had no idea you could be in this much pain and not self-combust.

The edges around my vision begin to blur and takes on a gray tint. The darkness around the edges is growing rapidly as the fire blazes hotter than ever. With a final cry of pain I feel a pair of cool arms lift me up. Only one thing is on my mind as the darkness takes over and I succumb to the pain.

"_this was not part of the plan" _

A/N: ok, so there you have it! As of now I am beta-less, if you want to do some beta-ing for me send me a message!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still own nothing, no copywrite infringement intended!

**A/N**: here comes the second chapter, I figured since I was already finished I might as well publish it, Enjoy!

Chapter two:

_Ouch…_

_Damn that hurts..._

_Shit that really hurts!_

My body was ablaze, every little bit, every single chromosome of me burning up in an endless inferno. I could feel my blood pumping through my veins, making my whole body feel alive, yet so dead. My entire being was screaming with pain, I could feel nothing but the pain. I couldn't speak; it felt as though my mouth had been sown shut. I couldn't even open my eyes, seeing as my eyelids felt heavier than Thomson – my 250 pound pure muscle, second in command. I tried to feel anything, anything but the pain coursing through my body.

I couldn't, the blackness was close, so close. Too tired to fight it, I let the comforting numbness sweep me away again, letting it cool down my burning limbs.

It was much late that I awoke – or at least I thought so, I had no concept of time anymore. Everything seemed to have been put on hold, the earth may as well have stopped turning for all I knew – I knew nothing but the pain. The pain that was still in full force, filling me with agony, and I wanted nothing else, but to close my eyes and succumb to the darkness again, to let it save me from the raging fire. But I knew I couldn't let myself, I was strong, I was a fighter and I was dammed if I was going to let this get the best of me.

_I can do this, I can do this, I can do this… _

These were the words that I kept repeating in my head, willing myself to open my eyes, even if only a sliver. Summoning strength I didn't know I had, I opened my eyes open, just a tiny bit.

_God, that fucking hurts!_

Had some nasty excuse for a human being poured sand in my eyes when I was out cold? If that was the case they were so fucking dead. Closing the tiny sliver I had managed to open and reveled in the darkness inside the confines of my eyelids. I let myself enjoy the feeling of cool that coursed through me as I let myself be shielded from the gruesome light outside.

It couldn't last forever though – as much as I willed it to- summoning the last of my now rapidly withering strength I flung my eyelids open.

_Shit, that's bright!_

I was blinking rapidly trying to get accustomed to the painful brightness that had now replaced the cool, soothing darkness. I willed myself not to close my eyes, wanting to figure out where the hell I was and what the hell I was doing there.

I looked around the room, taking in the interior, there wasn't much really. Two beds - not counting mine – one of which was empty, the other one was occupied by a young man. There hung drapes between the beds – the cheap plastic kind – that could be drawn out between the beds to create a little privacy. That was it, no tables, no chairs, no nothing.

The walls were a light beige color, kind of pretty actually, not that it really mattered if the walls were pretty or not. Light was spilling in from the two big windows, it was sundown and beautiful oranges, reds and yellows filled the evening sky.

Appreciate the little things in life – didn't someone smart say that once? Well even though the evening sky was pretty, I was finding it hard to focus on anything but the still very prominent – but dulling by the minute – pain filling my body. I tried to focus on anything but the splitting ache in my body, listening to the footsteps coming and going through the hallway outside, listening for voices, or simply to the beeping sound the machine monitoring my heart rate made.

Slowly, the pain began to leave my body, starting from my fingertips; the feeling of non-pain came crawling over my body. The cool, pain reliving breeze continued to travel across my body, leaving a pain free, cool sensation behind as a slug trail across my skin. It continued to make its way across my body until every inch of my skin was free of pain. Relieved, I slipped into an easy slumber.

I could hear faint voices around me, talking with each other in hushed murmurs. I tried to place the voices, but to no avail. Instead of opening my eyes right away, I continued to listen to them, trying to figure out what they were saying.

"Why isn't she awake yet? It's been two days!" I could hear an irritated voice exclaim from somewhere to my right.

"It's the body's way of dealing with the injuries, sir. She will wake up soon, don't you worry." A soft voice murmured to the other, trying to placate him.

Moments later I came out of my dream-like state of mind and opened my eyes fully. It was easier this time, but it still felt as though someone had poured a whole beach worth of sand in them. My body still felt relatively pain free though, all except my shoulder, which was pulsating with pain. It wasn't the same burning feeling as before, far from it, it was more of a muted reminder of the pain that had earlier consumed my entire body.

I felt strangely refreshed, far more then I probably should have. Suspecting that morphine had something to do with it, I looked down at my arm, and there it was. A needle with a narrow plastic tube attached to it, was placed in the crease of my arm.

"Ahhh, she's awake!" came the doctor's soft voice.

"About time" I could hear the other voice mutter, grumpily.

I looked over to where the displeased voice came, only to find no other than Thomson standing there. He looked me with a scrutinizing stare, a frown firmly in place on his otherwise smooth forehead.

"Took you long enough, do you know how boring it is to wait for someone to wake up for two days?" he asked me with a teasing voice.

I snickered at his childish remark, happy to see him.

"How do you feel?" came the other voice, clearly the doctors.

I pondered the answer, mentally searching my body for any aches or pains. I found no other than my shoulder. I opened my mouth to answer him, only to feel like a sandbox had been stuffed down my throat.

"Water" I managed to croak.

The doctor left the room, only to come back moments later with a glass of water. I sat up the best I could with my shoulder still hurting. I reached out with my good arm to take the glass of water from him; I put it to my lips taking a long sip. I could feel it making its way down my throat, washing away the feeling of sand along the way. I drained the rest of the glass like an animal who hadn't seen water in a decade.

"So what's wrong with me doc?" I asked, cheekily.

He chuckled "well, you took two bullets in your left shoulder" he said solemnly.

_Figured as much, damn terrorist ._"So how long until I'm back out there?"

He picked up the chart at the end of my bed and took a look before answering me. "Well, the bullets didn't cause any damage to the bones; they did however cause some damage to the muscle tissue in your shoulder. But since they went through clean, the damage done won't take that long to heal. In your case I would say up to four months at the most, you could even make it in two if you work hard in physical therapy."

I could feel all the blood drain from my face, my heart speeding up, beating rapidly as I was on the verge of panic. Two months. _Shit, fucking shit!_ This is so not good. What the hell are the troops going to do without me for two months? Where will I go? Shit, I'm going to be so fucking bored doing basically nothing for two months!

I could feel the panic seeping through me, when the doctor spoke again. "We will send you back to base during your recovery; since this is only a field hospital it's not built to accommodate patients for long periods of time." He looked at me with an apologetic expression.

"When?" I managed to croak out.

"You will be brought back to base with helicopter in two days' time. It's not safe to move you until then"

He looked over at me, expecting me to speak. When it became clear to him my mouth was staying shut, he told me to send a nurse to get him if I had any questions, I simply nodded in return. He took one last look at me then strode out of the room, leaving me alone with Thomson and my roommate, who was sleeping at the moment.

"So" he said, drawing out the o. " We're gonna miss ya"

I looked over at him frowning; he just shrugged giving me a lopsided, half-smile.

"You'll take over for me, right?"I asked him. Thomson might be a big baby sometimes, but I'll be damned if he wasn't a great soldier and strategist. He was almost as good as me, almost. He would keep them alive while I was gone.

He looked at me a moment then nodded. I blew out a breath of relief, he was the only one I felt comfortable with taking over for me. On top of being a good strategist and soldier, he had been working alongside me for so long he was practically me. Only without the boobs.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about us, we'll be fine. You just get better and then get back out here" he gave me a saucy grin and a wink, typical Thomson, always flirting.

"Yeah, I'll do that" I said, returning the smile.

He looked at his watch, making a face and telling me he had to get going but would be back the following day. I gave him a smile and a small wave as he made his way back out into the hallway, whistling "always look on the bright side" the whole way. _Funny bastard._

I lay awake for a while, pondering my situation. While this definitely was not ideal, it could be much worse I suppose, I could be dead. Guess I should take Thomson's advice, _always look on the bright side…_ Shure, easy for him to say, he's not the one who's confined to a bed.

While my shoulder hurt like hell and physical therapy would most likely be a bitch, the worst thing I would have to deal with would be the boredom. I was nothing if not restless; not being able to move around would take a toll on my psyche as well as on those around me. I not going to lie, a restless Bella is a very bitchy and grumpy Bella. Poor, poor nurses, never saw it coming.

I could cope with it for two more days though, probably, maybe… then it was back to base. It's been a long time since I've been back; i like it better out here, in the midst of the action. It's always cold in Germany to, not at all like the desert heat here, I like the heat.

_It's only two months Bella, deal with it. _

And I would. Then I would be back here, where I belong, in the heat.

The next two days were a blur of sleep, bad hospital food, irritated nurses and boredom. Exactly as I had predicted, I was bored out of my mind. A bored Bella is a bitchy Bella, hence the irritated nurses. They had me jacked up on lots of pain killers, not that I'm complaining though, my shoulder still hurt like hell. The pills made me tired though, I slept almost the entire time.

I found out my roommate's name was Peter, he was blue eyed, blond, from Sweden and he was hot, I mean _really_ hot. But my god, the man had the IQ of a fish, talking to him was like banging your head against a brick wall. Extremely painful. While we didn't figure out a cure for cancer, I do however, now know the "hotness rating" – the scale ranges from 1 to 10 – of every nurse who works here. Complete and utter moron, albeit a very hot one.

Time seemed to drag on endlessly, since there wasn't really anything to do. I was almost jumping out of my skin by the time a nurse came to escort me to the helicopter. The helicopter would take me to the airport, since it was too dangerous and would take too long to drive. I dressed in my normal military garb, glad to get out of the horrible hospital gown, and waited patiently for the nurse to come get me.

"What is that?" I said angrily, pointing to what the nurse had brought with her.

"It's a wheelchair?" she said with a heavy accent, looking at me confused.

"I know that. What I mean is what is it doing here?" I said fixing her with my patented scowl.

"You are going to sit in it, and then I will roll you out to the helicopter" she said, now very irritated, staring at me with a sour look.

"It's my shoulder that hurts, my legs work fine" I replied, looking at her as if she were as dumb as my roommate.

"Its hospital regulations" she told me muttering something in Spanish, probably a curse word.

"I don't care" I told her with a hard voice "I'm not sitting in that, I'm not an invalid" I retorted, my temper rising slightly. She gave me a hard look.

We continued to stare at each other like were in fourth grade and fighting over the last chocolate chip cookie. At last she let out a loud sigh and pushed the wheelchair to face the wall, she then looked at me expectantly. I was none too late to oblige, strolling after her as she walked out of the room.

We arrived at the helipad where the helicopter sat, engine turned off, waiting for my arrival. She helped me get in, slamming the door loudly behind me. And then we were off, the helicopter blades rotating faster and faster, making a loud whirring sound. I looked out as we rose higher in the sky, the hospital was now the size of a football.

_I guess this is good by_e_. For now, at least,_ I thought as we flew into the sky, leaving the hospital, my troops and the terrorists behind us.

_Ring, Ring, Ring…_

Ughh. I groaned, rolling over and covering my ears with my soft pillow, effectively shutting the annoying ringing of the phone out. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the thin steams of light that had managed to find its way around the black-out curtains. The phone finally stopped its incessant ringing, letting me fall back into a light morning slumber.

_Ring, Ring, Ring…_

I was effectively pulled out of my peaceful dreams by the phone ringing, again. _Damn, somebody has got a death wish_, I thought as I pulled the pillow from my head and tossed it across the room, hitting the phone making it slide off the desk. It hit the floor loudly, bouncing a couple of times before it stilled. It stopped ringing moments after it hit the floor, I sighed, happy that the damn thing had shut up.

I pulled the covers tighter around my body, trying to keep the morning chill out, but to no avail. The cold crept into my bones slowly, making me shiver. Figuring I would make a run for it, I threw the covers off and sprinted to the bathroom, turning the shower on and the heat up, way up. I undressed and stepped into the now scalding water. Stretching my sore limbs out as far as I could in the small shower space, I tried to shake of the stiffness of a long night's sleep.

All too soon the water turned cold and I stepped out of the shower and into a large fluffy white towel.

I sprinted out of the bathroom and across my small bedroom; I stopped at the dresser and pulled out a warm sweater and a pair of jeans. I discarded the towel and then pulled on underwear along with the sweater and jeans. Since it was Saturday and therefore my day off, I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, not needing to look professional.

I picked up a pair of black converse, then sat down on the bed untying the laces before I slipped them on. I contemplated what to do with my day, free time had been a foreign concept to me, until I arrived in Germany two months ago that is.

My physical therapy had gone according to schedule and I would by all probability be fully restored and ready to head back out in three weeks. I was itching to get out of here.

Germany was… _green. _And cold, damn was it cold. I had always preferred the desert heat of Irak and Iran, to the cold, rainy, greenness of Germany. Thank god I would be out of here soon enough. Spending a week every six months in Germany as per regulations, I had no problems with, but force me to spend almost three months here and you get a highly hazardous and irritable woman.

I mean, there isn't anything to do here. Apart from physical therapy and my daily runs and trips to the gym, I have mostly been doing nothing. And god, is it boring.

During the last two months I had worked hard to regain full mobility of my shoulder, and it had paid off. 65 days after getting shot twice in the shoulder and I was almost back to full strength. Other than working out, which believe me, I had done a lot of I was probably in better shape than ever before, I had been put to work in the administrative offices. It had been sort of an eye-opening experience, I found out rather quickly I was not cut out to work in an office. After only three hours of signing papers and crunching numbers I was ready to burst. Thank god I was off today; I don't think I could take another hour inside of those four ugly, gray walls.

_Ring, Ring, Ring…_

I groaned, whoever it was calling me was an insistent bastard. I walked across the room and bent down on the floor to pick up the phone. Glancing at the caller ID before flipping the phone open I saw that it was a New York area code, _what the hell?_

"Sergeant Isabella Swan speaking" I answered the phone in my no nonsense voice, the one I had used so many times dealing with rambunctious male soldiers who had the attention span of a two year old.

"Hello, my name is Angela Weber and I'm calling from Manhattan Memorial Hospital about a Mr. Charlie Swan. Is this his daughter whom I am speaking with" The lady asked in a calm, professional voice.

"Yes" I answered shortly, now weary of hearing the news she had to deliver.

"Ah, good. I am very sorry to inform you of this miss, but your father has unfortunately had a heart attack." She told me, the calm, professional voice still in place.

My heart was racing, my head pounding. Heart attack? _What the fuck? _Charlie Swan was _not_ a man who could be brought down by a measly heart attack! He wasn't supposed to die or be sick, ever! He was supposed to outlive me goddammit!

"Heart attack?" I croaked out, on the verge of panic.

"Yes miss, he suffered from a minor heart attack about 12 hours ago. I can assure you though, that with the right diet and daily exercise he will without doubt make a full recovery." She assured me, speaking as though she was trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner and not telling me that my own father had had a heart attack! "Are you available to come down and see him? He has been asking for you"

I panicked, shit, shit, _shit_. Could I? Should I? _He's your father for goodness sake! Of course you are going! _My internal voice all but shouted at me.

"ehh, I'm kind of not in the states at the moment" I told her, still feeling slightly panicky, reeling from the information I just received. "I'll have to talk to my boss. But I think it should be okay." I told her, slightly calmer.

"Of course miss" then I could hear an alarm going off in the background and some body shouting something about a code blue. The woman on the phone, Angela, shouted something back, then told me she had to go and promptly hung up.

I sat there, staring dumbly at the phone for another minute, trying to process what has just happened. After I got my mind back on track somewhat, I called my boss. Dialing the familiar number, I anxiously waited for the other line to pick up.

"Colonel Park" answered the gruff, very manly man on the other end.

"Sir? Its sergeant Isabella swan" I said nervously.

"Swan?" he asked, slightly surprised. "Why are you calling, isn't this you day off?"

"Yes it is sir, but I just received news from home, my father had a heart attack. And I was wondering if there was maybe a way I could take some time off, or maybe just prolong my time off a little…" I tailed off nervously awaiting his answer. He remained silent, contemplative.

After a few more moments of silence I grew impatient "sir?" I asked carefully.

He was silent another moment then spoke "I'll take care of it Swan, there will be a car waiting for you in two hours, it will take you to the airport" he told me in a serious voice. "Go home swan, see you father" he told me in a grave voice, then hung up.

I sat on my bed, staring at the little silver phone, stunned. Speechless. When I woke up from my shock I remembered, two hours. I was leaving in two hours, _shit._ Time tohurry.

As I ran around what had been my room for the past two months, trying to pack everything, and not forget anything in the haste, I could only process one thing.

_I am going home… _

**A/N: **dun da da dun! Ohh exiting! Next chapter; her return to New York, after 8 years away! What secrets lie ahead? What made her run in the first place? Read and find out. Oh, and reviews makes my heart beat happily and my fingers write faster!


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